Saved Messages
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: “I think the real question, is whether or not my best is good enough for you.” Booth stumbles upon a message Brennan has saved. *One-Shot*


Title: Saved Messages

Pairing: B/B

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Mercedes, Bones, and Komi are not mine.

Summary: "I think the real question, is whether or not _my _best is good enough for you."

A/N: If any of you have experienced loss in you life, perhaps you can understand this story. Otherwise, it might just come across as morbid, and for that I apologize. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

.::.

It was decidedly unsexy rain. It wasn't the warm clingy kind that made you want to rip off the clothes of the one you were with and suck the droplets off their chest. No, this was cold, freeze you to the core and make your insides shiver kind of rain. Despite the scowl he was receiving from his partner, Booth felt redeemed in knowing that she wouldn't have to bear it alone.

"I don't see why you came out here, I can change the tire by myself Booth," she huffed out as they watched her Mercedes get chained up by the dealer tow truck.

"Yeah, I bet you could, if only you had one of those hydraulic thingies that take off the bolts."

"Hmmm," her arms were crossed and though she was clearly freezing, she was doing a good job at hiding it. Too bad her lips were almost blue. "Your pants are soaked, " she said as she looked over at him, causing him to shrug. Despite it being early December, he'd removed his suit jacket in fear of getting that dirty as well.

"Hey your suit is ruined too, I guess we'll have to buy new ones. Ah we should get matching suits. Of course, you would have a skirt though, one of those tight ones that –"

She held up her hand and rolled her eyes, "I get the image Booth."

"It's picture, Bones, picture. Come on, let me take you home so you can change."

"We should go by your place first, it's closer."

"Fine, it won't take me long anyway."

No more than 15 minutes and a freshly changed Booth later, did they arrive at Brennan's apartment. He tried not to stare at her posterior as he followed her in, but this skirt was also tight, and the way her hips swayed was only begging for his attention. He removed his jacket as she walked toward her bedroom to change, already stripping off the soaked suit coat.

"Hey can you check my messages? I asked Angela to call my home phone to leave directions since my cell died. There should be a pad of paper in the drawer over there," she pointed to the drawer beneath the phone and he nodded.

"Yeah, go get clean. I'm starving," he said as she turned down the hall, letting him catch a glimpse of her bare back as she began to take off her cold, wet blouse. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to reign in his thoughts before they could go somewhere that he couldn't follow.

Walking over to her counter, he sat on a stool and grabbed her phone, leaning over the counter to grab the pad and pen. Pushing play, he listened to Angela's message.

"Hey Bren, Hodgins just talked to his friend and we've got a table at Komi at 8. I hope you wear that black dress I made you buy last weekend, because this is the perfect place to wear it. Anyway, the address is 1509 17th St. NW. It's right off DuPont, so you shouldn't have any problems parking. If you talk to Booth before you come, tell him to make sure he wears that leather coat, you know the one I'm talking about. Yeah, gotta go, Cam is giving me the evil eye."

Booth sat there grinning at Angela's message, glancing at the leather coat on the chair across the room. Apparently she shared a brain with Bones now, because Bones told him to wear the jacket.

"Bones! Angela said for you to wear that black dress you got last weekend," Booth yelled back to her, overwhelmingly curious to see what this dress looked like.

"Not funny," she replied as she started to blow dry her hair, drowning him out. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked down and realized he hadn't even written down the address.

Pushing play again, he was greeted not by Angela's voice, but by his own.

"Bones, yo! You have got to stop listening to your throat singers in your car so you can hear when I call. Heh, anyway. I've got a surprise for you and I need you to meet me and your squints at The Checker Box, k? Don't take too long doing… whatever it is that you're doing."

He could feel the blood pulsing through his ears. He knew this message. He left it for her the day he got shot. It wasn't more than 2 hours before the fact, actually. It was as though he was frozen in time, suspended between disbelief and uncertainty. Had she really kept this?

A few minutes later, he was brought out of his daze by hearing Bones' soft footsteps on her hardwood floor. She walked past him without stopping, clearly looking for something. As she opened the door of a closet he'd never noticed before, he had ample opportunity to observe her appearance.

This dress was definitely not black. It was desire disguised as clothing. It was a dark red wrap kind of dress and had that gauzy type of fabric that he itched to touch, it was simple, but revealed just enough that made it hard for him not to stare. Swallowing hard, he turned his attention back to the machine. Focus was impossible at this point.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you got the directions?" she was standing beside him now, looking at him curiously.

"I'm uh, I'm working on it. Finish getting ready," he said tightly, not turning to look at her. He could feel her hesitation, but he motioned for her to move away and began to press play again, going straight to Angela's message.

After jotting down the address and programming it into his phone, he remained at her counter, trying to decide if he should ask her about the message. Things had been going great between them lately, especially since his birthday. He wasn't sure if he should open this can of worms if it would only take them two steps backward.

She returned from her bedroom, this time with matching red heels and he couldn't help but let his eyes travel the length of her, sucking in a breath when he caught her eyes on his. There was uncertainty in them and he realized that she wanted to know what caused his change in mood.

"What's wrong?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. He almost wanted to laugh, because he should be asking her the same thing. A woman that beautiful and caring should never have to feel the pain she's experienced. No one should.

He debated shrugging it off, but he knew she wouldn't let him get away with it, especially since she'd developed this six sense for his mood changes lately. She could even tell when he'd spoken to his brother on the phone. She was as bad as Cam.

"Bones…" he started, not sure where to go with it. Instead, he just pushed play, and the message began, his voice filling her apartment. He saw her eyes widen and her gaze fall away from him, going to the offending machine. She reached around him and shut off the message then ripped the sheet of paper off the pad. Before she could get to the closet to retrieve her dress coat, she felt his hand grab her own, turning her toward him.

"Why do you still have that message?" he asked quietly, looking her directly in the eyes. It didn't last long because she looked away again, and wouldn't return to look at him. At first he thought she wouldn't respond, and he let her hand go, freeing her to turn around and get her coat. She remained facing him, however, and all he did was stand before her watching her approach her emotions as though she were hiding around the corner, peaking out to see what would strike first.

There was a knot in her throat that she couldn't swallow, it was stubborn and she could feel the sting of tears forming in her eyes. He was going to think she was crazy, but she could handle it, he'd been so forthcoming lately, he deserved this much at least.

"After…" she stopped for a second and cleared her throat, which was only getting tighter, she continued, "I hadn't heard the message until I got back from the hospital. Angela brought me home and …" she didn't finish, hardly remembering what happened that night anyway. "Late that night, I couldn't sleep and I was making tea and I saw the phone blinking and then I heard your," though her words came out in a rush, she stopped and bit the side of her cheek, willing herself not to let a single tear escape, she would settle for whispering as long as she didn't cry. "I heard your voice. And it didn't seem real, that you were de- , that you weren't coming back."

He wanted her to look at him and went so far as to place a timid hand on her cheek to draw her gaze to him, but she furrowed her brow and looked away, pulling his hand from her face.

"Even after you came back, I kept it, because it reminds me," she took in a deep breath and exhaled shakily, peering down at her hands. "I want you to know that I don't take you for granted, Booth. That's all. Not our partnership, not your friendship, not – anything. "

She wiped beneath her eyes quickly and looked up at him and rolled her eyes. Her discomfort was apparent and instead of dwelling in the moment and prodding her further, he gave her a warm smile, understanding and caring. Stepping away, she retrieved her coat and handed it to him as he helped her into her coat. Funny how so many intimate gestures were done out of habit now, not even given a thought as to how they would appear to the casual observer.

"So what's this about a black dress?" he asked as he slid into his leather coat and followed her out the door.

"Booth –" she nudged him in the shoulder as they walked down the hall, smiling coyly as she looked down.

"It's okay though, I like this uh this number you've got on too," he said while they waited for the elevator, motioning with his fingers toward her dress.

"Why thank you," she said with a demure smile, feeling his eyes on her as the elevator carried them down.

After they arrived at the restaurant, she could tell something changed between them, yet again. She wasn't sure if she could handle much more instability, because he was her constant. He was laughing and talking with Cam, but she could tell he was a little off, even as bad at reading others as she was. She'd never intended for him to know about the message. There were some things that were better left unsaid. They'd never really talked about his death and she was fine with that. Preferred it even.

She'd never told him that one thing she still had from when her mom was alive was a tape from the answering machine Brennan had grabbed on the way out of her house. Even now, when she wanted to hear her mom's voice, she'd pull out an old tape recorder and go into the back of her walk-in closet, digging out a dilapidated shoe box. She'd sit on the floor and listen to the messages, playing the second one over and over again, smiling every time her mom told her to make sure she took the clothes out of the dryer and that it would be great if she could pull the beef out of the freezer so it could defrost for dinner.

"Hey Sweetie, want to make a toast?" asked Angela as she slid into the chair next to her best friend, breaking Brennan from her reverie.

"Not tonight, Ange," she said softly. Perceptive as ever, Angela took one look and leaned closer to Brennan.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Angela's eyes immediately went to Booth, but Brennan placed a hand on Angela's and shook her head.

"No, nothing happened. It's been a long week and I'm tired."

"You sure?"

"More than I've ever been."

"Okay, well, I think Cam wants to say a few words anyway. I just wanted to say you were amazing in court today. I've never seen a lawyer look so surprised. You totally put him in his place."

"Would you believe he asked me out for coffee after that?"

"Get out!" replied Angela, completely surprised. Brennan was glad she understood this colloquialism, because it would have been awkward to remove herself from the table. As she and Angela continued to talk, she failed to notice a pair of brown eyes focused on her, intense and longing.

Cam broke up conversation around the table as she struck her glass lightly with the edge of her knife. All the team members, including Clark and Sweets, were present and turned to their leader in anticipation.

"I got a message from Caroline Julian after Dr. Brennan left court and she said that despite how unconventional we can be at times, she could not think of a better group of people she'd rather work with, including Booth," she gave him a wink and continued. "This case was difficult, not only because we've been short staffed, but also because we lost important evidence in the lab explosion a few months ago. Our hard work proved to be successful and with our collective efforts, the Jeffersonian and the FBI have put exactly 127 murders and accomplices behind bars. I think we all recognize how important this partnership is," she motioned to both Brennan and Booth, "but we also appreciate what each member contributes and how we can all put our differences aside to work toward a common goal. Congratulations and keep working hard, I want another dinner when we hit 150!"

Everyone said cheers and clinked their champagne glasses, smiling and celebrating. Brennan tried to let the exuberance of her friends wash over her, to feel a semblance of normal, but nothing stuck. She wanted to leave, to be honest. Her heart wasn't into celebrating. While her co-workers had worked tirelessly, they also spent their evenings at home or with loved ones. She'd returned to work until the early hours of the morning, trying to make it an airtight case. The man on trial was being tried for 6 counts of first-degree murder and he was a certifiable sociopath, but there was a possibility of innocence. At the 23rd hour, she had picked up on a piece of evidence that had been brushed aside earlier as unimportant. It turned out to be the keystone for the whole case.

They'd all assembled for court earlier, simply to watch her 'slam dunk' the case, as Caroline said. Brennan looked around the table at her colleagues and felt a flood of warmth move through her. She wasn't sure what she would identify it as, but she found it comforting. Without these ridiculously intelligent, sometimes crazy co-workers, she wasn't sure where she would be without them, or without _him. _At the thought, she sighed quietly in frustration. All throughout the night, she'd managed to avoid looking at Booth, fearing and wondering what she'd see in his eyes.

When she finally did, she couldn't break his gaze.

He gave her a smile at first, happy to have found her looking at him, but he quickly realized that she wasn't just looking at him, she was looking _in_ him in the way only she knew how. The more he slowly opened himself up to her, the more she climbed in and imprinted her life upon his own. Sooner or later, he wasn't going to be able to distinguish between the two.

He could see how tired she was by the way her returned smile didn't reach her eyes, and knew he should get her home. There were things he wanted to say, things that needed to be said, because they couldn't keep going like this. It was like they were stuck in a constant state of limbo and it was utterly exhausting. All along, he'd believed he was waiting for her to realize what to do about her emotions. Not once did he give thought that maybe she was waiting on him to do something about his own.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, he found himself outside with his partner, walking with her towards his SUV. She seemed in good spirits, but she was still quiet. It alarmed him a little, made him afraid that she was busy inside that head of hers trying to figure out a way to distance herself from him.

The ride back to her place was quiet; with occasional jabs at Clark still appearing uncomfortable and how hard Sweets was trying. He would steal looks at her when they reached red lights, but her head was fixed out the window, looking but not seeing. No one ever truly realized the sacrifices she made to stay at the Jeffersonian. She was world-renown and simply having her presence at a conference or help with identifying bodies would add prestige to any cause. Though he knew she enjoyed the work, he sometimes felt he was competing for her attention. One of these days, she might pack up her bags and not come back.

He followed her upstairs without even thinking and walked into her apartment, noticing that as little time as she spent there, it still smelled like home to him simply because it smelled like her. The thought threw him for a minute as he watched her set her purse on the counter and walk to the cabinet and pull out a cup for herself, then to the fridge to get him a beer. She filled the kettle and turned the stove on, then walked past him while removing her coat.

She had her back to him as she hung up her coat, her mind a thousand miles away. Suddenly she felt his hands slide around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. She was stuck by the intimacy of their position. He was always very careful in how he touched her though, so she knew that whatever he was doing wouldn't go very far. It never did.

As he hugged her tightly to his chest, she could feel him take in a deep breath and exhale slowly, his breath tickling her neck. Her shoulder scrunched automatically and she grinned, finally letting her hands rest on his.

"I don't want you to keep messages on your answering machine because you don't know if I'll ever come back," his voice sounded like sandpaper and she turned to him slightly, getting a close up of his nose and his lips. She had great appreciation for those lips. Though she stiffened at his words, she felt his thumb rubbing against her abdomen softly and it soothed her somehow. She bent her head down and frowned, trying to think of a reply.

Even though he promised he'd never put himself in this position, his body had acted on its own accord when he wrapped his arms around her. He was noticing a disconnect lately between his actions and his thoughts. This could become problematic in the future. He fought with all his might to not turn in and kiss the soft skin on her neck, it was bad enough that he didn't want to let her go. Not tonight, not for the rest of their lives.

"You can't guarantee that something won't happen to you, Booth. There is no way in knowing what tomorrow may bring."

"That's just it. You're treating every day as though something bad might happen. You are foretelling it's doom before it's already begun," he replied, slowly pulling his chin from her shoulder. She tucked her hair behind her ear and he was almost a goner, knowing the gesture was one of vulnerability.

"No, I'm just keeping my expectations in check. That way it's harder to be disappointed and more exciting when something good happens."

"Spoken like a true pessimist," he replied as she turned in his arms, facing him with her hands braced at the curve of each arm, resting on his biceps.

"I'll erase the message, but only if you promise to leave me one that gives me hope," she shot back, quirking her head to the side in a challenge.

"But you'd still be keeping the message."

"Only if it's a good one. I think I've gotten to the point where I can delete the message. I know what you mean to me."

He looked to be contemplating this for a moment, which gave her a chance to examine his features. Was it only physical attraction she felt when she was near him? Brushing the thought aside, she considered his other qualities. He may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but she could tell he would do anything for the people in his life, the squints included. And no matter how his brother treated him, he still loved him deeply. It was a hard cycle to break, that of an overprotective big brother, but he was doing it. Slowly, but surely.

A smile crept across his face as he looked back to her, finding that the sharp blueness of her eyes only paralyzed his thoughts. If he kissed her, could they go back to normal? Could it just be a kiss and nothing more? Could he have this one moment and not ruin everything else between them?

Before his body could leave his mind behind the whistle of the kettle broke their potentially life-altering embrace. A look of disappointment showed on her features as she stepped around him, going to the stove to remove the kettle from the heat.

Instead of pursuing temptation, he chose to resume his seat on the stool at the counter and took a long swig of his beer. He watched as she poured hot water into her mug and smiled when he saw it was a goofy one he'd gotten her one day that had a handle shaped like a femur and was connected to the cup by two finger bones.

"Nice mug," he said smugly.

Looking at it she gave him a smirk as she poured in some honey, watching it swirl down to the bottom of the cup.

"Some nice man bought it for me. I think he felt bad for breaking my favorite coffee mug."

"It was an accident."

She sighed at him as she casually reached over to the answering machine and pressed delete. It seemed like no big deal, but he knew it was. He wondered if she had voicemails saved on her phone as well.

"Yeah, well, make sure it never happens again," she looked at him carefully, and he picked up on her meaning. They definitely weren't talking about the mug anymore.

"I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises."

"What if your best isn't good enough?"

He took a long sip of his beer and set it on the counter, running his hand through his hair. Searching the kitchen for a handbook on how to deal with this woman would be of no use. He fixed his eyes on her, steady and sure.

"Is my best good enough for you?" he asked seriously, hoping she picked up on the gravity of his question.

"I think the real question, is whether or not _my _best is good enough for you."

Eyebrows raised in surprise, he chuckled nervously. When did he start laughing nervously? He was 100% man. He didn't laugh or chuckle or even smile when he was nervous. But here he was, sitting across from his partner who was in a gorgeous dress, willfully opening herself up to rejection. She was acknowledging her limitations and he needed to validate that.

Before he answered, he finished his beer and stood up, walking to her sink to rinse out the bottle before placing it in her recycling. When he turned around, she was leaning against the counter, watching him patiently. She had her mug clasped between her hands drawing warmth from the ceramic. He took the mug and set it on the counter behind her and grabbed both her hands in his.

"Someday, not tonight, not tomorrow, not when we're both bruised and battered, but someday soon, we're going to ask each other the same question," his eyes bore into hers with such intensity that she almost felt like looking away. "And when we do, we'll both be prepared to do something about the answers we give. Until then, all I'm going to do is work to be a better person and show you that you don't need to be afraid of what you feel in here," he placed his hand in the center of her chest relishing the warmth of her skin, his fingers resting above her right clavicle, "because I'm probably feeling it too. You got that?"

He could have kissed her then, slowly and sweetly, but he decided that she should take away the greater meaning that he was trying to convey. No matter how much he wanted her, he needed to make sure he would be able to keep her.

"So you're saying I should embrace my emotions?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Isn't that something Sweets would say?" he couldn't help but laugh in reply.

"Yeah Bones, probably," he smiled as he stepped away, preparing to leave.

She followed him to the door feeling mildly conflicted over what just transpired. Were they spinning their wheels? The only thing she could conclude was that he was waiting on her to discover something, but she had no idea what it was. None whatsoever. Why couldn't he just tell her what she ought to be feeling so they could move on?

That wasn't the way the world worked, however. As he leaned in and kissed her softly on the cheek, she smelled the scent of his cologne and couldn't help but encircle her arms around his waist, slipping between him and his jacket. There was a very large part of her that knew she wanted to remain in this position for the rest of her life, but there was another part that was strong and cautious, that told her it would be too dangerous to let herself enjoy this feeling of safety and contentment. It was the reason she kept the message, it was the reason she never let herself think of what she could have with him, no matter how appealing it may be. Because the possibility always remained that she could get a call one day that affirmed her fears and she was too afraid to risk it.

He placed a kiss on her temple and another on her cheek, and when she stepped back, he kissed her again on the lips, but it was fleeting and feather-light. When the door closed she remained in front of the door, her fingers upon her lips, yearning for the warmth she felt from the barest of kisses to spread to the rest of her body.

Maybe she could risk it. If only to feel that warmth again.

.::.

It was the following Monday as Booth rode into work that he checked his clock. He knew that she'd already be at work, filling out paperwork or knee-deep in limbo. As he took out his cell, he took a long breath and dialed her home phone, trying to remember all the things he wanted to say. As the answering machine picked up, he began his message as he normally did, hoping his voice would steady out as he continued.

"Hey Bones, this is the message you wanted. But here's the deal, you cannot listen to the rest of this unless something terribly bad happens to me, or I tell you that it's fine for you to erase. Okay? I'll give you five seconds so you don't hear this part." He took a deep breath and counted to five, hoping she would hold true to his request. It's not like he wouldn't be able to tell immediately if she did listen to it, so he felt confident that what he was doing was right. "Here it goes, Bones… _Temperance_. I want you to know that –"

And with that, the lone F.B.I. agent laid his feelings bare for only her empty apartment to hear, knowing that he would do everything he could to be able to tell her in person the heartfelt emotions that he'd been holding in so close.

.::.

A/N: Not sure how this came across, but I've been kicking it around for months now, so this weekend was the drop date. Please don't think Booth's message was a cop out, just a reply to a request. Thanks!


End file.
